


Imprudent

by orsumfenix



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Canon, breaking up, self care issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-04-28 15:32:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5095871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orsumfenix/pseuds/orsumfenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bart gets hurt a lot, Jaime notices. And worries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A villain breaks Bart’s arm with a strong blow, and Jaime quite honestly expects him to cry.

But because it’s Bart and Bart is unpredictable like that, he just gets up from the floor, looks at his mangled arm, and frowns.

“That _hurt_ , you _bastard_ ,” Bart hisses, before zooming back into action and subduing the villain almost entirely on his own – and with one broken arm, nonetheless.

Jaime rushes in to help as soon as he can, and with the villain groaning on the floor and Bart standing tensely above him, it’s not looking like a stellar situation. Jaime takes in the stiffness of Bart’s shoulders, the way he’s holding himself a bit too tall as though he might collapse if he doesn’t, and knows that Bart’s in a lot more pain than he wants to let on.

“Hey,” Jaime says gently, taking Bart’s uninjured elbow with his hand. He isn’t even surprised when the speedster lets out a groan and leans on him heavily, biting his lip so hard that blood swells. Jaime’s lips twitch down when he sees, but he’s here for comfort, not a rant. “That must hurt like hell, huh?”

Bart, to his credit, musters a grim smile.

“It’s pretty moding,” he agrees, and his voice has done that gravelly thing it does, either when he’s upset or when he’s hurt. Jaime’s leaning towards the latter, for obvious reasons, but in Bart’s situation he’d be sobbing on the floor by now and he’s not quite sure how Bart’s _not_. “I can get it fixed soon, though, right?”

Jaime smiles and nods.

Guess Bart must be tougher than people give him credit for.

\--

Bart’s arm takes a few days to heal – the team thought it would have been longer, and apparently it should have been even with speedster healing taken into account, but since it’s Bart it takes the shortest time possible.

“My injuries always heal at different rates,” Bart proclaims to the team, doing that thing where he grins and shows all his teeth and it’s just ever-so-slightly unnerving. “Some take like, an hour, and other ones take the normal rate for _you_ slowcoaches.”

Jaime’s slightly concerned at just how many injuries Bart’s _had_ that he’s figured this out, but he chooses not to say anything because Bart grew up in a post-apocalyptic world and neither Jaime or Khaji Da want to re-open _that_ can of worms. On this matter, he’s willing to agree with the Scarab. Childhoods are _not_ up for discussion when talking to Bart – or the vast majority of the team, for that matter.

No matter what’s expected, though, Bart’s arm is healed remarkably fast, and Jaime can look at it again without wanting to be sick.

Doesn’t stop the nightmares of a twisted elbow haunting his dreams, though.

\--

About a week after the Arm Incident, as Jaime has taken to internally calling it, Bart shows up at his doorstep with a bloody nose.

His parents are out, thank _god_ , off taking Milagro to some magic show that Jaime had to beg not to attend, and so he feels like he can stare at Bart for thirty whole seconds before dragging him into the kitchen.

“What did you do, _hermano_?!” Jaime demands, trying to look equal parts annoyed and concerned. He’s not sure how well he’s pulling it off, and Bart’s lazy grin could mean _anything_. Seriously, Jaime’s seen that grin directed at Nightwing when he’s cross and Cassie when she’s happy and Artemis when she’s being all big-sisterly, and Jaime quite honestly has _no idea what it means_.

“Tripped while I was running,” Bart informs flippantly, sitting dutifully on the kitchen stool that Jaime directs him to. That big goofy grin is still on his face. Coupled with the bloody nose that Bart’s pulled his hand away from to let Jaime see, it’s kind of unnerving. Scratch that, _very_ unnerving. The blood is slightly smudged around his lips, and it makes Bart look like a demented clown.

Ugh. _Clowns_.

Jaime shakes his head free of _that_ disturbing thought and folds his arms, trying to look intimidating and not knowing whether he’s succeeding because _Bart’s still smiling._

“I thought you were an amazing runner,” he accuses, narrowing his eyes and not entirely sure whether he’s teasing or not. “Considering you practically do it for a living.”

Bart shrugs slightly, still smiling carelessly and it’s _really_ starting to freak Jaime out. Because while Bart smiles a lot, he’s usually not smiling with a bloody nose and red smudged around his lips. So while it usually just looks like Bart’s eaten one-too-many bags of Chicken Whizzies, now it looks like he’s just murdered someone and is extremely happy about it.

“I don’t know, her-man-o.” Jesus Christ, Bart’s pronunciation literally is the _worst_ thing Jaime has ever heard. “I was just thinking of you and I tripped. Guess you’re just _that_ distracting.”

Jaime pauses – because scrap Bart’s awful pronunciation, _that_ was the worst thing Jaime has ever heard.

“That was literally the worst thing to have ever come out of your mouth,” he informs bluntly, but he’s _actually_ _blushing what the fuck_.

Bart notices the blushing, because it’s _Bart_ and if he’s _supposed_ to notice something then it flies right over his head and if he’s supposed to miss something then he’ll focus on _that and that alone_.

“You seemed to like it,” he teases, and he’s got a _really_ cute smile now, all scrunched-up nose and everything, and Jaime likes Bart’s freckles a lot except that now he can’t tell what’s freckles and what’s blood and he really needs to clean Bart’s nose up.

Jaime clears his throat, and picks up a tissue. Then he picks up ten more, because he’s not overly fond of blood and right now Bart’s nose is _full_ of it.

“You look like a creepy clown,” he informs, leaning forwards. “I’ll clean your nose up.”

Bart laughs, and despite the blood it’s _adorable_.

\--

Luckily Bart’s nose wasn’t broken, just bloody, and so when Jaime kissed him before he left it didn’t injure him even more.

The next day Bart pulls him into a private room with a sly grin that could normally mean anything, but this time Jaime’s pretty sure he knows.

\--

Item Number 3 in Jaime’s mental cataloguing of Bart’s injuries is a gunshot wound, and about when he starts to realise that there’s something very, _very_ wrong.

Bart’s reactions to everything are unpredictable, and injuries fit in with that. For example, Bart’s reaction to getting his arm messed up was to be angry about it, and his reaction to tripping and getting a bloody nose was to grin like mad about it, and now it seems his reaction to getting shot is to pretend that it hasn’t even happened.

When the villain the team is facing pulls out a gun and begins shooting wildly, everyone except for Jaime and Bart run for cover immediately. Jaime, because his armour will stop any bullets from injuring him, and Bart because he apparently doesn’t have a single preservation bone in his body.

In fact, Jaime doesn’t even _notice_ Bart’s been shot until a full five minutes afterwards.

Both him and Bart have been running around a lot to work on defeating the villain, and later Jaime will look back and wonder why the _fuck_ Bart’s been running around so much with a bullet lodged in his thigh. Because, man, that’s gotta _hurt_ , but somehow Bart manages to keep an amazing poker face and not bring anyone’s attention to the fact that the villain’s bullet did, in fact, hit.

They defeat the villain quickly, because Khaji Da is nothing if not efficient and Bart has this ‘thing’ about speed – for obvious reasons. And so it’s not until the Scarab intones **[The Impulse is bleeding]** that Jaime notices the blood running down Bart’s thigh.

“He’s Kid Flash now,” Jaime tells the Scarab, almost on instinct, and then the words fully hit and he narrows his eyes at Bart until he notices that there is something dreadfully wrong. “Oh my god, Bart, you’re _bleeding_!”

Bart himself looks down at his thigh in a somewhat disinterested manner, quirking his mouth.

“Oh. Yeah. That.” He looks up, squinting his apologetically at Jaime. “I kind of got shot.”

“You _what_?” Jaime squawks, just as the rest of the team finally gets back to them. “ _When?_ ”

Bart frowns, picking at the edge of his gloves. He shoots Jaime a _look_ , which could either mean Bart thinks he’s being incredibly stupid or incredibly clever. Jaime guesses stupid.

“When he was shooting bullets,” Bart states, rolling his eyes. “ _Obviously_.”

Jaime genuinely can’t tell if Bart’s exasperated or not, since the edges of his mouth are quirking oddly in what could be a smile or a frown. Or pain, Jaime supposes. You know what, it’s probably pain. Getting shot must hurt like a _bitch_.

Bart got shot about five minutes ago. Jaime feels his eyes widen.

“Why did you go _running around_ if you got _shot_?!” he demands, slightly hysterically by this point, and the rest of the team seem to realise what’s going on in this moment because they all look at Bart with shock. Bart just smirks and oh, yeah, he’s _definitely_ enjoying this.

“To defeat the villain,” he states proudly, waving his arm so fast it blurs with superspeed. “And it worked, right? My leg didn’t even give out, which – hey, _weird_ , but I guess I’m not complaining -”

“Kid Flash,” Nightwing interrupts, and for such a normally cool guy he looks about a second away from having a heart attack. “Are you saying that you got shot, in the thigh, didn’t tell anyone, and still haven’t _received medical attention_?”

Bart shrugs.

“It was only five minutes ago.” Then he smiles, looking slightly pained. “Can someone catch me? I think I’m about to pass out.”

As soon as he finishes the sentence, Bart’s eyes roll into the back of his head and, sure enough, he begins to fall. And dammit, Jaime may be mad at him but he’s not going to let his – best friend? boyfriend? They still haven’t properly talked it through – with a bullet _lodged in his thigh_ fall to the floor unconscious.

After catching Bart, Jaime stares down at him, unsure. What do you do with a surprisingly light knocked-out speedster lying in your arms?

“Take him to the BioShip,” Nightwing orders, looking exhausted. Jaime understands how he feels. “We’ll figure out what to do from there.”

\--

“I heard about what happened,” a voice says above him, and Jaime looks up to see Artemis peering down with an unreadable expression on her face. “He got shot, right?”

Jaime nods, not trusting himself to speak. Artemis grimaces and sighs out through her nose.

“Figures,” she mutters, sitting down beside him. “Don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so reckless, and I’ve been doing the whole ‘superhero’ thing for a while now.”

Jaime is silent for a couple moments, before deciding to ask Artemis the question that’s really bugging him.

“Why is he _such_ an idiot?!” he demands, throwing his arms up in the air. Artemis watches him from the corner of her eyes, an amused grin twitching about her lips.

“Speedsters are. It’s a general rule.” Artemis stretches out, looking at the ceiling. “Bart still in surgery?” Jaime nods. She shoots him a grin, one that he thinks Bart may have copied a couple times because it’s _definitely_ not the first time he’s seen it. “So, are you two dating, or what?”

Jaime flushes, and then feels stupid because he doesn’t actually know the answer.

“I’m…not sure,” he admits, hoping he doesn’t look _too_ stupid. “We’ve like… kissed and stuff, but it’s _Bart_ and we’ve not actually _talked_ about it and this could just be one big joke to him…”

He trails off at Artemis’ _look_.

“This isn’t a joke to him,” she informs, smiling softly. “I promise.”

Jaime swallows.

“Um, thanks.” He feels awkward now. He’s never really spoken to Artemis before, never mind about anything so personal. Jaime wants to change the topic but the only other thing he can immediately think of is Wally and he does _not_ want to go there. It’s much like the way he can’t talk about childhoods around Bart, or parents around Nightwing and the like, and _why must everyone on his team have big gaping sore spots?_

Miss Martian saves them both.

“Bart’s got the bullet removed,” she announces as she enters, smiling warmly at both of them. “He says he’s fine to see people.”

Artemis gestures to Jaime.

“You go first,” she orders, grinning. “The two of you have something to discuss.”

Jaime just hopes he isn’t flushing _too_ badly.

\--

Jaime decides to start the conversation with what’s been _really_ bothering him.

“You’ve been hurt three times in one month,” he starts. Bart shoots him a _look_.

“Jaime,” he says. “A bloody nose doesn’t count as _‘injured’_.”

“Yes it does, shush.” Bart grins cheekily at him. Jaime can’t help but grin back. “You’ve been hurt three times in one month, and the last time you _didn’t even say_. _Or,_ move out of the way of the gun, like everybody else.” Jaime gives Bart what he _hopes_ is a disapproving look. Bart has the good will to look sheepish.

“I’m not really a run-for-cover type of guy,” he admits, messing with the end strands of his hair. “Doesn’t really occur to me, you know?”

“No, Bart, I _don’t_ know.” Bart tries to give him a grin, but Jaime’s not having it. “I’m serious! You can’t get hurt and then pretend like it never happened! You were running around on that leg and I’m surprised it didn’t collapse!”

“Me too,” Bart confesses, smiling at Jaime. “Wanna make out now?”

On the one hand, Jaime’s annoyed and wants to show that he has a strong force of will. On the other hand, that smile is _really_ cute.

Jaime wonders what it says about him that he gives in to the latter.

\--

A couple days later, Bart’s reaction to a paper cut is the one Jaime _would_ have expected after getting shot.

“Ow!” Bart exclaims, clutching his finger. “Ow, ow, ow! Jaime, this _hurts_!”

“It’s just a paper cut.” Jaime doesn’t even both looking up from his newspaper, which he’s not really reading, because if he _does_ put it down and look at Bart then he’ll collapse into hysterics. “You’ll be fine.”

“No I _won’t_!” Bart wails, collapsing on top of Jaime and his chair. The older teen wheezes. Because while Bart may be light, he has this annoying habit of sticking his elbow _right_ in Jaime’s ribs. “Jaime, I’m gonna _die_!”

Jaime himself is still having trouble breathing.

“You have… the _boniest_ elbows in the world,” he finally gets out, shoving Bart backwards a bit. Bart just grins and wriggles slightly, before a strange look comes over his face.

“Hey, Jaime?” he asks, then barrels on without waiting for a response. “Are we dating?”

Jaime pauses. Bart looks at him with big eyes and cute freckles and he _doesn’t know what to say_.

They never did have that talk.

“Do you… want to be?”

Bart nods, and it’s the most silent Jaime has ever heard him.

“Then… yeah, I guess.”

Bart takes a second to _beam_ , and Jaime flushes because that smile is really, _really_ cute.

“Crash!”

For some reason, Bart seems to forget that they’re both precariously on a chair and moves towards Jaime. Both they and the chair go toppling onto the floor.

But with Bart’s lips pressed against his, Jaime can’t find it in him to care.

\--

It takes a week for Bart to get himself hurt again.

Jaime knows why Bart was originally named ‘Impulse’ – because when he arrived in the past the computer talked about an unknown energy impulse and Bart thought is sounded “crash” enough to become his permanent name. Which is such a _Bart_ explanation, and thus one Jaime chose to believe.

But it’s at times like this Jaime wonders about the more _literal_ meaning of the name Impulse.

Because when Vandal Savage, who for some reason is _here_ and has _locked them in_ and has a _meat cleaver_ , raises his weapon to strike at Bart – instead of using his superspeed to _move out of the way_ , like a _normal_ person, and this is something that Bart is _very much capable of doing_ – well. Let’s just say that even _Jaime_ can tell Bart made the worst decision possible when choosing to stop the meat cleaver with his arm.

And that’s how Jaime comes to be attempting to calm Bart down as the rest of the team fight Vandal Savage just a few metres away.

“Bart,” he says, trying to get through to his boyfriend whose eyes are glassy and filled with tears. “Bart, you’re gonna be fine.”

Bart just takes a shaky breath.

“Hurts,” he croaks out. “Jaime, it hurts.”

This isn’t a surprise.

It’s quite possibly the most gruesome thing Jaime has ever seen – whether because it just _is_ or because it’s something that’s happened to _Bart_ , he doesn’t know. Because the meat cleaver is quite literally _buried_ in Bart’s arm, and Jaime doesn’t blame him for panicking because right now he’s panicking like mad, too.

Why did Vandal Savage even _have_ a meat cleaver?

“Look, I – I know it hurts,” Jaime says, trying to sound reassuring but probably failing. “But, just trust me, after the team’s done taking this guy down we’ll get it out, and you’ll be fine.”

Bart makes a pained noise and screws his eyes shut, lips twisting down in a horrific display of agony. Water just keeps pouring out of his eyes – Jaime thinks that Bart’s cheeks must be soaked with tears by now.

He’s never seen Bart cry before.

Bart didn’t cry when Wally died, or when got his arm messed up, or when he got shot, and now here he is with a meat cleaver buried in his arm and it’s like his eyes don’t know how to stop the water from gushing.

And Jaime can’t do anything to help, except reassure Bart and try to calm him down.

“Bart?” Bart doesn’t respond. Jaime isn’t surprised. It’s hurting him just to _look_ at, he can’t imagine _feeling_ it. “Bart, I need you to stay with me.”

Jaime’s not sure why Bart didn’t react this way to getting shot – surely that must have been on the same level of pain? – but he’s got a horrible feeling that the _realness_ of a meat cleaver has something to do with it. At least when Bart got shot the bullet wasn’t visible. It’s kind of hard to ignore a huge meat cleaver lodged halfway through Bart’s arm.

 _Where_ is the team?

“Bart?”

Jaime doesn’t really want to, but he shakes Bart’s shoulder anyway. The one belonging to the uninjured arm, that is.

He can tell that Bart’s still awake, because he’s rocking Bart and forth biting his lip like mad, but he’s not answering.

“Bart?”

“…Jaime.” He can tell that it’s a struggle to just get that single word out, so instead of pushing like he knows he probably should, Jaime just wraps his arm around Bart’s uninjured one and takes in the warmth of Bart – because he’s still _here_ and that’s _good_.

“Just… try not to fall asleep, yeah? The team’ll be here soon.”

“Okay,” Bart whispers, and Jaime uses that to hold on himself until the team arrive.

\-- 

Jaime gets the proper story later.

While he tried to calm down Bart, it took the rest of the team to take down Vandal Savage, even without his meat cleaver (Jaime tries not to think about the horrific reason Savage lost it). When they finally did, half went to help Bart and Jaime and the other half to bust the doors open.

Both Bart and Jaime had been fully exhausted at this point, so while they took Bart for serious medical attention, Cassie volunteered to set Jaime up in a bed nearby so he could rest.

Jaime himself was fully conked out by this point.

Cassie tells him the whole thing in the morning, and Jaime frowns the entire time.

“Is Bart okay?” he asks once she’s finished, because that is and always will be the most important question. Cassie gets a strange look on her face.

“He’s _acting_ fine,” she informs, looking uncertain. “But it’s _Bart_ – he could feel _better_ than he’s letting on or he could feel absolutely _awful_.”

That’s true.

Cassie smiles a little.

“He’ll probably tell _you_ though, if you ask,” she states, smile getting wider at Jaime’s shocked look. “Oh, come on, everyone knows the two of you _adore_ each other. I doubt he’d have the heart to lie to you if you looked him right in the eyes while you asked.”

Jaime grins.

“Shut up, Cass,” he teases, watching her laugh. Then he stands up. “I’ll um – go do that now. See Bart, I mean, not shut up.”

Cassie smiles, twirling some of her hair around her finger.

“I know what you mean,” she informs, squinting her eyes as she looks up at Jaime. “Go get him, Tiger.”

Jaime laughs and leaves.

\--

He finds Bart eating an entire chocolate gateau.

Jaime blinks at the sight. Bart’s already eaten about half, by the looks of things, and not showing signs of stopping anytime soon. When he notices Jaime, he grins. There’s gateau smeared all around his mouth. Jaime doesn’t know why he expected anything else.

“Jaime! Do you want some gateau?”

“Um, I’m good, thanks.” Jaime tries to muster a smile, but he can’t help but notice how Bart only uses one arm to grip his fork with, and the same arm to wave at him, and the same arm to itch at his nose with a second later.

The arm the meat cleaver hit lies still by his side. Jaime gestures to it.

“How’s your arm?”

Bart glances at it, then surprises Jaime completely by lifting his arm up and waving it about. Jaime blinks. He has almost _never_ correctly guesses how Bart’s going to react. Case in point: he thought Bart would avoid using his arm, healed or not, for months. Looks like Bart’s having another “injuries heal really fast” thing.

“It’s _fiiine_ ,” Bart claims, grinning and… _leaning_ on it. Jaime will never get over how Bart manages to surprise him every single day.

“Are _you_ fine?”

Bart mouth quirks downwards slightly and he wrinkles his nose. Jaime feels the corners of his own mouth rise. There’s a reason he likes Bart so much.

“I’m a bit shaky,” he informs, and Jaime feels his mouth droop down again. “And I’m not _technically_ supposed to use my arm and when I tried Artemis shouted at me, but she’s gone now! And my arm is fine!”

Jaime lets himself smile again.

“If you say so,” he says, coming over to sit on the chair by Bart’s bed. That gateau looks _really_ nice. “What do you say to a date with me?”

Bart smiles.

“ _I say_ , that sounds crash! When?”

“Would you be okay to sneak out and go right now?”

Jaime doesn’t know why he even bothered asking. Bart’s out of bed in a few seconds, gateau forgotten.

\--

Two days later, Bart has a nasty scar on his arm.

Jaime can’t look at it without feeling ill.

\--

“What’s up with your fingers?” Jaime asks as Bart approaches. Bart looks down at them and pulls a face.

“Oh, this?” Bart waves around his fingers, taped together. “I punched some guy and broke them.”

Everyone turns to look at him. Cassie raises her eyebrows.

“Jesus, Bart,” she comments, grinning. “Who _did_ you punch?”

“I don’t even _know_. Some villain. But he had a _really hard_ face.” Bart turns to him. “Hey, Jaime, you up for ice cream later?”

“Sure,” Jamie responds, smiling. “As long as nothing comes up before then.”

“Oh, come on.” Bart spreads his hands. “What could go wrong?”

\--

What could go wrong, as it turns out, is Bart getting hurt. _Again._

If asked the name of this particular villain, Jaime wouldn’t be able to tell anyone. He just knows that she’s tall and muscled and has a knife.

To be honest, with Bart’s current record, Jaime’s surprised he didn’t see it coming sooner.

When The Villain – capitalised, because there seems to be tons of them – starts swinging her knife like crazy, everyone within her local area steps back because they do not have a death wish. Bart, though, apparently does, because he watches the knife swinging towards him with big eyes and doesn’t make a single move to get out of the way.

Considering he has superspeed, and could get away in less than a second, this pretty much confirms Jaime’s theory that Bart has utterly _no_ concern for his own safety.

“Bart!” he shouts, equal parts angry and concerned as he runs towards said speedster. Bart himself _finally_ moves away from The Villain and grins up at Jaime, despite the way he’s clutching his side with white fingers.

“Jaime,” he greets, sounding for all the world like they’re just passing each other on the street. Though his voice is gravelly, kind of giving away that he’s in pain. “I just got stabbed, how moded is _that_?!”

Bart’s words certainly _sound_ like he’s panicking, but considering he’s got a big dopey grin on his face and his tone is an excited one, Jaime’s not quite sure what’s going on in Bart’s head right now.

“Oh god,” he mutters, looking down at where he can see the blood trickling through Bart’s fingers. “Oh _god_ , just, um, apply pressure – here, I’ll do it, lie down.”

Bart does so, with assistance from Jaime, though for some reason the speedster’s face looks heavily amused.

“I feel like a damsel in distress,” he comments, even as Jaime frantically presses his hands to the bleeding wound. “Does that make you my knight in shining armour? Oh, wait, no, you’re my knight in _blue_ armour! Oh, man, that’s perfect!”

Trust Bart to enthusiastically start blabbering on about fairy-tales when he’s probably quite literally bleeding to death.

“Are you guys okay?” Cassie asks, running over frantically, and from there it’s straight into action, getting Bart into the BioShip in less than a few minutes.

And on the way back, as Jaime’s been pushed to the side to make it easier to attend to Bart, all he can think of is _why didn’t he move away?_

\--

“You know, other people, they all have a Fight-or-Flight reaction, but you? You just stand there like a moron!”

Jaime scowls at Bart, and is surprised that he’s not when Bart simply scowls back.

“I don’t _stand there_ like a _moron_!” he exclaims, throwing his arms up in the air. Jaime tries to look unimpressed. Considering how much he’s hung around Bart in his lifetime, he’s pretty sure that he’s mastered the technique.

“Yeah, Bart, you do.”

“You’re over exaggerating!” Bart, the _king_ of over exaggerating, announces. Jaime cocks an eyebrow.

“Well, I’m clearly not, because you could have dodged that knife in about two seconds! Same goes for the bullet, and the meat cleaver -”

“Ugh, don’t remind me about that.” Bart screws up his nose, and Jaime can admit that he doesn’t really want to be reminded of it, either.

“Look, just – what is it with you? Do you _want_ to die?”

“Of course I don’t!”

“Then quit acting like it and try _taking care of yourself_ , maybe? Is that an option for that speedster brain of yours?!” Jaime’s willing to grant that he’s kind of hysterical at this point, and the back of his throat hurts from shouting.

He’s not used to being angry.

“Why are so _mad_? I don’t get why you’re being so _moding_!”

Bart’s speaking as though he’s upset, but his face just looks angry. Jaime breathes out slowly.

“Look, if you’re not gonna look after yourself, then maybe… Maybe we shouldn’t do this anymore.”

As soon as he’s spoken the words, Jaime knows that he should regret them. He _should_ , but he _doesn’t_.

Bart’s face relaxes into being impassive; Jaime’s so used to seeing it animated that it just looks… odd, now. He wonders if this is how Bart’s _really_ feeling – or rather, a _lack_ of feeling – or if this is just another fake facial expression.

“Shouldn’t do what, Jaime?” Bart’s voice is monotone, but when he looks into Bart’s eyes he can see something there.

Bart’s hiding his feelings, then.

And he knows exactly what Jaime means.

“I think you know.”

He does. And Jaime knows that Bart knows because a second later he lets out a bitter laugh.

“So. You’re breaking up with me.” Bart’s lips turn upwards into one of his grins-that-could-mean-anything, though Jaime’s pretty sure this one’s bitter.

“I’m not breaking up with you. I’m giving you ultimatum. Either start looking after yourself, or… or we stop.”

Silence reigns for a few seconds before Bart looks away, towards the roof.

“I look after myself just fine.”

Jaime feels his heart sink. So… that’s that, then.

“…I guess we’re breaking up, then.”

“I guess we are.”

Jaime turns to leave, barely even hearing Khaji Da mentioning something as he walks away.

He glances back for a second to see Bart staring at the ceiling, an unreadable expression on his face.


	2. Chapter 2

Adjusting to life without Bart as a constant is simultaneously the easiest and hardest thing that Jaime has ever done.

Easy because Bart’s had periods of hanging out with Cassie and Tim more than with him – Jaime’s done this before, though this time it feels stranger. Because while before Bart wouldn’t strictly _be around_ him, Jaime would still be the subject of huge beaming grins whenever their eyes met, and he’d always know that Bart will come back.

Now, he doesn’t have that.

Their eyes don’t meet often, but when they do Bart scowls and looks away, something dark and deep within his eyes. Jaime catches him smiling around Gar and Cassie and La’gann, but Bart never smiles at _him_ , not anymore.

And he knows that unless something happens, Bart’s not coming back.

Jaime’s parents seem to know that him and Bart have had a falling out. Milagro looks sad whenever the speedster’s name comes up in conversation, which is often because Bart’s name comes up in _everyone’s_ conversations.

It’s not particularly pleasant.

What’s even _less_ pleasant, however, is seeing Bart interact with Tim and Cassie and Gar and La’gann in the same friendly tone as usual, but slipping into grunting and body movements whenever he’s around Jaime. Jaime doesn’t like watching that, so instead he watches from a distance as Bart gets on with everybody else.

“Hey Bart?” Cassie asks in the kitchen one day, with Jaime as far away from Bart as possible. “You know the future? Did you have, like, someone special?”

“Someone special?” Bart repeats, grinning and tilting his head. “Why, are you interested?”

“Shut up!” Cassie defends, though she’s smiling. “I have Tim and you have -” Cassie cuts herself off, shooting an awkward look at Jaime before continuing on. “But do you?”

Bart leans back on his chair.

“Nope,” he announces, popping the ‘p’. “For one thing there wasn’t time for stuff like that, but I guess I generally just wasn’t interested? Not until I got to the past and met – you know.” Jaime waits for Bart to shoot him the same awkward look as Cassie, but it never comes. “So, nah, there was no one.”

Cassie looks like she’s trying extra hard to seem disappointed, despite the fact that she’s obviously thrilled.

Oh, _god_. She still believes all that ‘true love’ stuff between Bart and Jaime is true.

And if Jaime’s totally honest, he believes it too.

Because even though he _knows_ they’ve broken up and he _knows_ that it’s probably permanent, Jaime can’t help but feel as though life without Bart… isn’t _right_. They’re _supposed_ to be together, that’s how it should be, and when they’re _not_ … Well. Jaime suddenly has a lot of free time, and a lot of typical teenage angst.

He’s talked to Black Canary a bit about it. She offered both him and Bart sessions when she found out – only Jaime took her up on the offer, to his knowledge. He recalls when years ago, straight after the Reach left, everyone on the team was _obligated_ to have sessions or else be suspended from the team. Jaime himself found them helpful. Bart only ever complained about how boring they were.

Jaime clears his throat.

“I think I’m going home,” he announces, heart dropping as Bart’s eyes flick away after only a brief moment of staring. “See you.”

“Bye, Jaime!” Cassie shouts, before turning to Bart as though expecting him to do the same.

Bart does no such thing.

Jaime leaves with a heavy chest.

 --

Two weeks later, Bart is on a mission that Jaime is not. The Team gets back in flurry of activity and panicked shouting, heading towards the medical bay.

It’s almost completely impossible that something has not happened to Bart.

Jaime is proven right several minutes later when Cassie approaches, bags under her eyes and a grim approximation of a smile.

“What happened to him?” Jaime asks.

Cassie sighs, running a hand through her hair.

“Bart’s broken his jaw.”

Jaime feels his mouth drop open, forcing it closed after several seconds.

“Are you serious?” His mind is moving at a million miles an hour. “That is – _mierda_ , how did that even _happen_?”

“What do you think?” Cassie says, twisting her lip. “He got punched. _Hard_. He didn’t even try to move. Idiot.”

There’s something they can both agree on.

“When can I see him?” Jaime asks, because he and Bart may not be dating anymore but he’ll be _damned_ if he’s abandoning him now. “Do you know how fast I can see him? It always takes a different time for him to heal, do you know how long this one will take -?”

Cassie steps back, raising her arms.

“Jaime, Blue – I don’t know _anything_. Ask Nightwing. He’s the leader.”

**[Your heart is beating too fast, Jaime Reyes. Suggested course of action is to exterminate the Wondergirl.]**

Jaime forces himself to calm down, if only to get the Scarab to shut up.

“Fine. I’ll ask him. Thanks, Cass.”

She nods, though she looks as upset as Jaime feels. 

\--

Jaime doesn’t get to see Bart until a full three days after The Incident.

An emergency medical team gets there almost immediately after, sending the news after an examination that surgery is needed. The whole team (minus Nightwing) sits silently in the main room, eating popcorn and trying to pretend like they’re not about to cry. Jaime receives more concerned looks than he can count, but Cassie and Gar both come to sit beside him and offer him ice cream, so everyone else leaves him alone.

It takes a while, but eventually Nightwing returns with the news that the surgery’s over, and the medics are in the middle of wiring Bart’s jaw shut.

“He’ll recover, though we have no idea how long it’ll take,” Nightwing informs, looking more exhausted than Jaime’s ever seen him. It’s a common occurrence for people to get exhausted around Bart, but for _Nightwing_ … well, it’s somewhat less common. “He’ll need lots of check-ups, but as of now Kid Flash is suspended from all team activities until his recovery.”

He’s met by a round of nods and muttering.

“Blue Beetle,” Nightwing says, rounding on Jaime. “His family’s seeing him tomorrow – you can go in the day after. I know it’s… a while, but right now we don’t want to risk overcrowding him.”

Jaime nods, because loathe to admit – he understands. Certainly, if _he_ somehow broke his jaw, he wouldn’t want a bunch of people crowding him.

Though who knows if Bart would even visit if their situations were reversed.

“Try to get some rest,” Nightwing recommends. “I know you’re worried, but you look rough and you won’t be doing anyone any good if you pass out from exhaustion. I’m sure the Scarab will back me up.”

Then Nightwing leaves.

“I don’t look that bad, do I?” Jaime mutters, picking at the sleeve of his jacket. Cassie grins from beside him.

“Honestly, Blue? You look like shit,” she informs bluntly, picking at her own sleeve before punching him lightly in the shoulder. “Go home, bucko. Mama Beetle will be wondering where you are.”

“Mama Beetle?” Jaime repeats, but Cassie’s already up and wandering over to get more popcorn.

He decides to go home.

\--

Sure enough, Bart’s family visits the next day. They all look stressed – with the obvious exceptions of little Don and Dawn – and on their way in Iris spots Jaime.

“Hey,” she greets, smiling, though the bags under her eyes are especially prominent. “Are you holding up okay?”

Jaime doesn’t even know if Bart’s family knows about the breakup, but he figures they probably don’t really care right now.

He swallows.

“Um. Yeah.”

“No, you’re not,” Iris sighs, running a hand through her hair. She’s looked tired ever since Wally ceased, but Jaime wouldn’t be surprised if the strain of having _Bart_ as a grandson with zero preservation kills has taken its toll. “I don’t think any of us are. But, bless you, you’re trying.”

Jaime shrugs jerkily. He wonders if that’s what Bart does whenever _he_ doesn’t know how to react.

Iris sighs again, eyes flickering towards the twins. They look a little less hyper than usual after seeing whatever state Bart’s in. Honestly, Jaime didn’t think it was even _possible_ for anyone to be more hyper than Bart, but somehow the twins manage it. He briefly wonders if they’ve inherited that from Bart before remembering that, oh yeah, it’s probably the _other way around_.

It’s easy to forget that Bart is from the future, sometimes. Other times it’s painfully hard to forget.

Iris pats Jaime on the back lightly, snapping him out of his reverie. She tries for another smile.

“Nightwing told me you’re seeing him tomorrow – get some rest until then. Does your family know what’s happened?”

**[The Iris is interrogating too much. Destroy her.]**

“No,” Jaime says to Khaji Da, having to rephrase at Iris’ look. “I mean, I think they know something’s up, but not… what.”

Iris nods, as though it’s exactly what she expected.

“Go back to them,” she commands. “You need your family as much as Bart needs his.”

Jaime bites back the comment running through his mind – that he’s not really sure if Bart _needs_ anything.

\-- 

“Look,” Jaime begins, sighing. “I’m not going to yell at you.”

Bart raises an eyebrow, and at least this time Jaime can actually tell what he means – _oh, really?_

“It wouldn’t be fair,” he states, taking a seat. “It’s not like you can talk back. I just – want to see how you’re doing.”

Bart shrugs. Jaime tries not to let his heart fall.

Bart’s jaw looks terrible. If Jaime thought the _meat cleaver_ was bad – well, it’s just been topped. He’s probably going to be having nightmares for a while, but he tries not to let it show on his face. He doesn’t want to upset Bart, even though he has no way of knowing if Bart would actually even be upset.

Silence.

Seeing Bart quiet is… strange. Normally he’d be chatting a mile an hour, whether to Jaime or not. But now he says nothing. And it’s made even worse by the fact that he’s sitting terribly still in the hospital bed that Jaime is too used to visiting. Bart being still and silent is very, _very_ unnerving.

“…Do you know how long it’ll take to heal?”

Another shrug.

Bart doesn’t look so great. Disregarding the jaw, he has bags under his eyes and his hair’s an even bigger mess than usual. Jaime resists the urge to take Bart’s hand, the way he’s _so_ used to doing. Bart would either appreciate it or detest it, and Jaime doesn’t want to be the one to upset the person with the broken jaw.

Jaime sighs again, because that’s all he seems to do around Bart.

“Take it easy, _cariño_ ,” he says, using the term without thinking before remembering – oh yeah, they aren’t dating any more. “I mean, just… try to relax, for _once_ in your life. Are you taking time off from the team?”

Bart nods, as though Jaime was expecting any other response.

“I’ll come see you, if you want,” he offers, and when Bart shakes his head Jaime’s heart falls. In all honesty, it’s done nothing but fall ever since they broke up. “Well – get better soon. Your family will take good care of you.”

 _I could, too_ , Jaime doesn’t say. Because he _could_ – if Bart would let him. And if Bart were willing to even take care of _himself_.

**[The Impulse if being unco-operative. Destruction recommended.]**

“Shut up,” Jaime says on instinct. Bart shoots him a _look_. “Not you. The Scarab. You _know_ I mean the Scarab.”

Bart tries to smile before his eyes screw up in pain. Jaime tries not to feel pained just by watching.

“I should go,” he says, searching Bart’s face for any sign of wanting him to stay. He finds none. “I’ve got a mission.”

 _Please be okay_ , lingers on Jaime’s tongue, but he says nothing.

Bart can’t speak and Jaime doesn’t want to, so as he leaves the room lingers in silence.

\--

Apparently this is one of Bart’s injuries that takes the normal time to heal – six weeks. Six weeks of Bart resting at home with his family, and Jaime not visiting once.

He thought he knew what missing Bart was like when they first broke up and didn’t speak. But it’s one thing to be ignored by the person you like; it’s a whole other thing to know that they’re hurt and don’t want to see you.

Jaime tries not to be upset, but Milagro’s walked in on him crying three times now and he’s not sure how much longer he can last.

The team seems to notice how he’s feeling – Cassie and Tim stop going on dates with just each other and invite him along, and while Jaime appreciates the sentiment, being a third wheel is kind of not what he needs right now. Hanging out with Gar is slightly less uncomfortable, since that mainly involves lounging around while a green cat sits on his lap.

Jaime tries not to think about how used he is to having _Bart_ sit on his lap, somehow managing to weigh about the same as a cat. Which is. Worrying, in hindsight.

 _Lots_ of things are worrying in hindsight.

Like Bart’s big fat grin when he waltzes in after six weeks of a broken jaw, tapping his hand at superspeed as though nothing ever happened.

“Eating Chicken Whizzies again is a blessing,” he announces at volume, garnering everyone’s attention. “I forgot how much I liked them until I had them just now. Or maybe I didn’t forget. Cassie, did I forget?”

“How should I know?” is Cassie’s blunt reply, but her expression speaks volumes as she wanders over to punch Bart’s shoulder. “Welcome back, idiot. How’s your jaw?”

Bart snorts.

“What jaw? Who needs jaws in this day and age? You know, in the future, we didn’t _have_ jaws, or even faces – I had to get one especially for all of you. And what appreciation do I get? A punch in the shoulder.”

Jaime blinks as his lips twitch upwards.

“That is such bullshit, Bart,” Cassie replies, and she mustn’t realise how much Jaime wants to be the one bantering with Bart right now. “We all know that people don’t have _brains_ in the future, and clearly you didn’t remember to get one to come back here.”

Bart’s face is a blessing.

“Blondie,” he huffs. “I’ll have you know I am smart enough to _build a time machine_.”

“But somehow,” Tim interrupts – which in and off itself is rare, but whenever he does it’s _savage_. “Not smart enough to avoid breaking your jaw. Or getting shot, stabbed, or having a meat cleaver buried in your arm.”

“ _Tim_ ,” Bart wails, and Robin just _grins_.

\--

Typically, because Bart is Bart and the team is the team, Bart’s first mission back ends up being a car chase.

Jaime isn’t sure whether Bart’s even _been_ in a car before, but right now he’s a little too focused on not dying to ask.

“We’ve got to be breaking at least one speed law right now!” he shouts over the wind, aiming his cannon out of the car and shooting wildly at the truck following them. Bart, to his right, manages to both laugh like a maniac and sound bored out of his skull. Fuck, how does he _do_ that?

“Blue Beetle,” Batgirl says, driving wildly at the wheel and sounding as though she’s gritting her teeth. “We are breaking _all_ the laws right now.”

“If we all put our seatbelts on we’ll be breaking one less law,” Conner points out by her side. Batgirl shoots him a withering look.

Bumblebee sighs, and Jaime can only hear her because she’s hovering right by his ear.

The black truck veers closer and Batgirl presses down, sending Jaime’s stomach churning. He fires another shot, but hitting does nothing to slow the truck down.

“We’re going so fast I think I’m going to be sick,” he says. Bart laughs like a maniac from beside him.

“You think this is _fast_? Jaime, I _walk_ this speed. This is _agonisingly_ slow.”

**[The Impulse is correct.]**

“Shut up,” Jaime snaps – though whether to Bart or Khaji Da, he’s not sure. Batgirl makes a sharp turn that sends everyone flying to the right, and Jaime’s _really_ starting to wish he didn’t eat that chocolate bar earlier. “Why are they chasing us, anyway? And who are ‘ _they_ ’?”

Conner sends back a sympathetic glance.

“They think we stole their technology.”

“ _Why?”_

“Because we did,” Batgirl answers sharply, knuckles tight on the wheel. “Keep shooting, Blue Beetle, you’re the best weapon we’ve got.”

“Hey, Jaime,” Bart snickers, elbowing him in the ribs. Jaime’s suddenly glad he’s wearing the armour, even if it _is_ unbearably hot. “Did you hear about Captain Cold getting arrested for stealing a vending machine?”

Bumblebee and Jaime shoot Bart an exasperated look in tandem.

“Kid Flash,” Karen says. “What does that have to do with _anything_?”

Bart shrugs, still grinning.

“Dunno. Just popped into my head. Guess the truck must’ve reminded me of it. Can I get out and run?”

“Only if it looks like we’re going to crash,” Batgirl states, eyes focused on the road. Conner turns his head to her.

“It’s been looking like we’re going to crash for the last twenty minutes.”

“Well, if we’re seconds away from crashing,” Batgirl corrects, shooting a glance at the truck behind them. “I’ll tell you if we get to that point. For now, Kid Flash, just… Don’t distract anyone with vending machines. This isn’t as easy as it looks.”

“It doesn’t _look_ easy,” Bumblebee says. “Want me to take over?”

“It’s fine. You should stay shrunk, this fucking car can barely fit us as it is.”

Jaime blinks. Did Batgirl just swear? _Batgirl_ , who never loses her cool? Ever?

“Blue,” Bart suddenly says, grinning over at him as though they’re even still _talking_. “Aren’t you supposed to be shooting stuff?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be shutting your mouth?” Jaime retorts, turning to the window before he can see Bart’s expression. “Are we almost done?”

“I think so,” Conner answers, looking around. “Batgirl, do you want me to just get out and fight? I’ll just – punch the truck.”

“I can go and mess up the engine,” Karen offers. Batgirl has never looked so _done_.

“No one is leaving this car,” she commands with gritted teeth. “Unless I say so. And I won’t say so until it looks like we’re going to crash. Which we won’t, because I know. What. I’m doing.”

“I believe in you, Barbara!”

“ _Kid Flash, what happened to **secret identities**?!_ ”

“Whoops, sorry.”

“That was completely on purpose,” Jaime shouts with his head outside the car, trying not to smile as he aims the cannon. “You’ve done it to every hero at least once.”

“You keeping a list, her-man-o?”

“Are you even _trying_ to pronounce that correctly?”

“Um.”

“I can pronounce it properly,” Conner announces proudly, which is kind of irrelevant. “The G-nomes programmed me with hundreds of different languages.” Jaime turns back in time to see him frown. “Why are you saying _hermano_ when you’re dating?”

Jaime looks away.

“They’re not anymore,” Bumblebee informs, and if it was possible for this situation to get even more awkward it just did. “You need to keep up with the gossip more, Superboy. These two are over.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you,” Jaime mutters. Bart stays silent.

“That sucks,” he hears Conner say, apparently honestly. “I know how it feels, if it helps. Like – breaking up with someone. When me and M’Gann… Well, it was hard. If either of you need anyone to talk to -”

“We’re fine,” Bart interrupts sharply. “Barbara, are we almost done?”

“I give up,” Batgirl mutters, right as Jaime chooses to do the same and pull his head back inside. “Fine, _Bart_ – yes, we’re almost done. We just have to get through these last few streets and we’ll arrive at the base. Then the rest of the team can fight this truck off.”

“Just to say,” Conner states. “I don’t like this plan.”

“Yeah, well neither do I. But it’s looking more and more like our only shot.”

“Shot’s a fun word,” Bart says, because he’s an idiot. “Very crash. Hey, don’t you think it’s funny that I just said that and we might actually, y’know, _crash_?”

“Hilarious,” Conner replies in monotone.

“Kid Flash,” Bumblebee says. “All due respect, but shut up.”

“ _Fine_. Honestly, I can’t do anything round here.”

“I don’t mind your babbling normally, but in the middle of a car chase? There needs to be rules.”

“Says who?”

“ _Me_ ,” Batgirl grinds out, interrupting. “Look, we’re only a street away. We’ll make it.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Conner inputs. Batgirl smirks.

“That wasn’t me being hopeful. That was a fact. _We’re going to make it_.”

Batgirl is always right, and this time is no exception. They make it, and Bart doesn’t even get a major – or minor – injury.

That counts as a win in Jaime’s book.

\--

An even bigger win is that Bart’s started talking to him again, even if it _is_ about the most random topics possible. Like whales and colours and “I didn’t even know trains existed, but they do, how cool is _that_?”

It only takes about a week for Jaime to get fed up.  

And so he goes to his mother.

\--

“Hey, Blue?” Bart says out of nowhere, continuing on without waiting for an answer. It’s kind of endearing. “What’s your opinions on constellations?”

“They’re… cool, I guess.”

“You got a favourite?”

“Most people don’t _have_ a favourite constellation, Bart.”

Bart makes a little humming noise that could mean either he’s in complete agreement or thinks Jaime is totally wrong.

“ _I_ do.”

“You’re not most people.”

“Wanna know which one? Cassiopeia. It’s really pretty. Plus I like that it makes a W. Other constellations don’t even _try_ to make letters.”

There’s a reason Jaime thinks Bart is cute, and when he’s talking like this it’s not an easy reason to forget.

Jaime looks around. They’re alone. Might as well brave it.

He takes a deep breath.

“Could you… see constellations, in the future?” he asks, heart beating wildly with the fear of stepping on a major landmine.

“Nope,” Bart announces much too cheerfully, popping the ‘p’. “All we saw was ash in the sky. No rainbows, no stars… Hey, did you hear about Trickster breaking out of jail?”

“No,” Jaime says, surprising even himself.

“Really? Oh, _well_ -”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jaime interrupts, watching as Bart’s eyes flicker oddly. “No, you’re not changing the subject. You’re good at it, I’ll admit, but not – we’re not doing it this time.”

Bart’s shoulders slump.

“Not doing what?” he asks, though they both know exactly what Jaime means.

“This…” Jaime waves an arm. “This… pretending everything’s okay, when it’s so obviously not.”

Bart just huffs, crossing his arms. He looks like a petulant child, which Jaime is very willing to admit that Bart basically _is_.

“You’re not my _mother_ , Jaime,” Bart says, and Jaime finds himself blinking in shock at how spiteful those words are coming from _Bart_ , of all people. A couple seconds later, Bart’s whole body perks up with a sickening falseness. “And I’m fine, really. It’s fine, we’re fine, everything is just… fine.”

“Bart,” Jaime says, sitting down. “That’s the _last_ thing everything is.”

Bart looks away.

“I -” he starts, voice cracking. Jaime tries to pretend like it doesn’t break his heart. “Look, we – _grife_ , this is moding, not crash at _all_ -”

Apparently Bart slips into future lingo when he’s stressed. That’s… adorable, if a bit worrying.

“I know,” Jaime says, eyes once again flickering around to make sure they’re alone. When he sees that they are, he continues. “It’s – we haven’t really been very good at this, have we?”

Bart smiles ruefully.

“You mean _talking_? ‘Cos I personally think I’m great at that.”

“I mean talking _honestly_. Communicating, listening… all the stuff you should _do_ in a relationship.”

“So,” Bart says, clearing his throat. “You’re saying we failed at a _relationship_.”

“I,” Jaime begins. “Yeah.” An uncomfortable silence reigns, before he decides to continue. “Or rather – we failed at a certain _aspect_ of it. We were great at the dating part. Not so much at the…” He trails off. Bart quirks a brow. “ _Talking_ part.”

“Have you been reading books on how to have a successful relationship?”

“Yeah. Plus I talked to my _madre_.”

“Oh,” Bart says simply, fiddling with his sleeve. “I miss your mum.”

“You can still see her,” Jaime says on instinct. “She says that she misses you, too.”

“That’s – that’s crash of her.”

“She’s the best,” Jaime states with no small amount of pride, before sobering up. “But, seriously, Bart, just – talk to me.”

Bart scrunches his nose up.

“And tell you _what_?”

“Okay, well – in a dangerous situation, what’s your thought process?”

Bart makes a frustrated noise.

“Fine. Here I go.” He takes a deep breath. “I just – I don’t _think_ like other people,” Bart states, face screwing up. “It’s like – stuff occurs to other people, when they’re in danger. But to me it just… doesn’t.”

“Is it,” Jaime begins, throat constricting. “Because of the Reach?”

Bart shrugs jerkily, eyes flickering everywhere but at Jaime.

“Dunno. I – we had _very_ different childhoods, Blue. And my education wasn’t exactly up to standard. We didn’t have time for schools.”

“Oh,” is all Jaime says, though this new information that he _really should have realised_ is sending his brain running at a million miles per hour. Because, without school, how much has Bart been taught? Can he read and write? Does he know about safe sex? How much of _history_ does he know, besides the fall of the planet?

Khaji Da seems to be curious, too.

**[Interrogate the Impulse. Discover his knowledge.]**

Bart quirks his eyebrow and mouth simultaneously, which wouldn’t work unless anyone other than Bart was doing it.

“What’s with that face?” Bart asks lightly, leaning back. “Did the Scarab say something weird?”

_No, **you** did. _

“I,” Jaime begins, voice high, before he clears his throat and tries again. “I was just wondering how much history you know. _Dios_ , that sounds stupid when I say it out loud.”

Bart makes a little humming noise, and Jaime has no idea whether he’s humming or not.

“Well, no one ever bothered to tell me about Greeks and Romans and Egyptians and stuff, so I had to get Zatanna to tell me about them. I’m… actually really bad at historical stuff. I still don’t get half the references people make.” Bart makes a breathy laughing sound. “But I’m _crash_ at superhero history. My parents would never shut up about shit like that.”

“Oh,” Jaime says again, because apparently that’s his default response now. Then, “Wait, we got off-topic. We were talking about you… perceiving danger.”

“That’s the thing. I _don’t_.”

Jaime blinks.

“Um,” he says. Bart decides to carry on speaking.

“I – in case you haven’t noticed, Jaime, I’m not the best at… thinking stuff through. Or – or being _normal_ , really, by your definition. I mean, I _am_ normal – it’s the rest of the world that’s weird.”

And fuck if that isn’t just such a _Bart_ thing to say.

“Okay, well,” Jaime starts, trying to run through what Bart’s just said. “Was it always this way? Like – were _you_ always this way? When you first got to the past, you – were you different?”

Bart shrugs jerkily.

“No idea,” he comments lightly, smiling distantly. “I just – I am who I am, yeah? Though sometimes I guess it kind of feels like I… came from nowhere.”

“Oh.” This must be the hundredth time Jaime’s responded with this by now. “Uh – anything you want me to talk about?”

Bart hums.

“Your opinion on…” He seems to be searching for a topic. “Starfish and jellyfish. Which is better?”

Jaime cocks an eyebrow.

“Shouldn’t we be talking about something _serious_?”

Bart hums again.

“How about… we get ice cream and talk – _properly_ talk – in about a week? Then we can… I dunno, think of a way to put stuff. Because I’m _terrible_ at just _speaking_ about, like. Serious stuff.”

Jaime nods.

“Okay.”

And so the plan is made – in a week’s time, they will sit, talk, and figure things out.

\-- 

Then there is a prison, Dr Serling Roquette, and Deathstroke with a gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> third part should be bart's pov yeees


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god this is twice the length of the other chapters

“We’re going to a _prison_?!”

“You don’t have to sound so excited,” Jaime mutters beside him, but Bart just grins wider.

“But prisons are so _retro_! Oh man, I can’t _wait_! Do you think I’d be allowed to take pictures? Ooh ooh, can I spend the night in a cell? Ah, this is going to be so. Crash.”

Everyone stares.

“Kid Flash,” Nightwing says after a moment, looking seconds away from dropping his head in his hands and just _giving up_. “We’re there to stop a mass breakout, not to go on a tour.”

Bart pouts.

“Not even _after_?” he whines, watching out the corner of his eye as Jaime smirks and Cassie sighs. “Come on – I’ve never _seen_ a prison before. Not the inside of one, at least!”

“He has a point,” Artemis states. Nightwing and Batgirl sigh in tandem.

“Fine,” Nightwing concedes. “ _One_ tour. _After_ we’re done stopping the breakout. Unless Kaldur objects.”

Everyone turns to Kaldur, who simply shakes his head.

“All _right!_ ” Bart pumps his fist in the air. “ _Knew_ there was a reason I loved you, Kal!”

“Don’t call me that,” Kaldur commands with the weariness of someone who knows it’s a futile case.

“We’re all calling you Kal from now on,” Lagoon Boy says, grinning. “Thanks for the awesome nickname suggestion, KF!”

Bart grins, and has to try _very hard_ not to look deranged.

Judging by the looks everyone sends him, he doesn’t quite succeed.

\--

Bart’s dad was always cautious.

It was kind of a given, considering it was Grandma Iris who raised him – Grandpa Barry forgot to be cautious against Neutron, and died because of it. So really, it was no surprise that she drilled it as best as she could into her speedster twins to be as careful. As. Possible.

As such, Don Allen barely even got scrapes or bruises growing up. And cast aside his eventual Death By Reach, he had no major injuries at all.

But Bart doesn’t take after his dad. He takes after his mum.

He thinks about her sometimes – not often, but sometimes. She grinned a lot, grinned through her pain and grinned through running from the Reach and grinned through _labour_ , if stories were to be believed.

It’s a trait that Bart definitely inherited.

Sort of.

He knows his coping mechanisms are weird, and bound to draw attention in the past, and so when a villain breaks his arm with a horrible _snap_ and a jolt that runs through his arm and into his body, Bart forces down the automatic maniac grin that he knows he has and instead focuses on the pain as he takes the villain down.

When he’s done, and standing over them, he holds himself rigid as he can as his lips twitch. He wants to smile, even though most people don’t _smile_ when they’re _hurt_ and that’s kind of _fucked up_.

But, then again, _Bart’s_ kind of fucked up.

And then suddenly Jaime’s there, all gentle words and warm skin – he’s even retreated the armour around his arm, which was awfully considerate of him. Bart _knew_ there was a reason Jaime was his favourite.

Favourite _what_ , he’s still not sure. Teammate? Friend? Boyfriend material?

Bart knows the answer, of course.

Jaime is his favourite _person_.

He’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to _have_ a favourite person. When he thinks about it it’s very difficult not to laugh, and he doesn’t always manage to quell the giggles. When they escape without Bart’s consent around people he usually gets weird looks, though if it’s around Jaime then those weird looks have endearment mixed in, which just makes Bart like Jaime more and then realise that he shouldn’t favourite someone because of endearing looks they send which just makes him laugh more until he’s doubled over and trapped in a cycle.

Which is why it’s important to stop the laughs as soon as they come.

But when he doesn’t and Jaime shoots him that _look_ , Bart’s tempted to just let that laughs out every time.

\-- 

“Asphodel Prison is an underground prison,” Batgirl informs as they sit on the Bioship, pulling up a picture of the structure. “It was built to contain the _most_ dangerous criminals. The Joker – though he hasn’t been transferred yet – Gorilla Grodd, Bane… The prison was designed with the intention of keeping them all locked up. For good.”

“Unfortunately, it’s fairly new.” Nightwing takes over with the ease of someone who’s known Batgirl for years. “And an attempted mass breakout has already occurred due to a corrupted guard. Currently, the only thing stopping all these villains from escaping is Serling Roquette. She’s working on the top floor and keeping all the doors to each level shut, though pretty much each villain is out of their cell.”

“Our job,” Batgirl cuts in, eyeing them all individually. “Is to travel to each level and get all the villains back into their cells, with Dr Roquette helping us from her office. Does that makes sense?”

The whole team nods in unison. Batgirl smiles grimly.

“Good.”

“Hey Jaime,” Bart snickers, elbowing Jaime. “Do you think Captain Cold will be there for stealing that vending machine?”

The look Jaime shoots him can only be described as _unimpressed_.

\--

Considering Bart has superspeed and could probably just defeat muggers with a rope and a quick jog, he _maybe_ shouldn’t be in this situation.

Because after he managed to get the muggers to leave the poor lady alone and they started growling at him – like the dogs in the future, all the ones that were feral and dangerous and that Bart kind of misses – he could just walk away. He _should_. Artemis would tell him so, Jaime would tell him so… His _mum_ might even tell him so, and Bart takes after her more than anyone else in the world.

(Though he thinks he’s probably even more messed up than her, sometimes. Because while Meloni was very much like him, hyper and easily distracted and grinning as a coping mechanism, she had _limits_. She recognised danger in the Beetles, and she ran. Maybe because she had someone to protect, whereas Bart’s only ever had himself.

Or maybe he’s just a screwed up kid. It wouldn’t really be much of a surprise. His mum _knew_ what it was like to live in the past, but Bart’s socialisation all took place in the post-apocalypse.

And it’s not as though an education was something he properly received.)

So he _should_ just run off, probably – not because the muggers are _dangerous_ , but because he’s done his job here and it’s only expected that he should leave.

But because Bart is who he is and he has instincts he can’t control, he grins, straightens his back, and surveys the muggers.

“I found out about boxing recently,” he announces, leaning back slightly. His grin turns – well, not _real_ , but more instinctual. The deranged one, the one that he usually hides because people tend to flinch away. Bart tilts his head. “Are you any good at it?”

He’s not sure if they really are and he’s just good at dodging, or if they’re just shit. Bart’s not really good at judging things on a normal level like that, but regardless of the cause he only gets caught once, with a fist to the face, before he kind of… picks it up, and manages to subdue them all.

Then frowns, because he hopes his Grandpa Barry doesn’t find out about this.

“I’ll be going now,” he says loudly, still grinning. A trail of blood runs out of his nose and over his mouth, though Bart makes no move to wipe it away. “I have a potential boyfriend to go woo. Oh and don’t tell Flash, ‘kay?”

One of the muggers groans, but Bart just zips away over to Jaime’s house.

(It’s not like he wanted to _hurt_ the muggers – and he didn’t, not _badly_. He was just intrigued about boxing and how good he’d be at it, even if _was_ sans gloves.

The only things that were crimes in the future were things that went against the Reach.

Trying a new thing isn’t a crime, right?)

Jaime’s face when he opens the door is a _picture_ – Bart’s nose is still bleeding a bit, despite the run all the way from Central City to El Paso.  

He tells Jaime that he tripped, and doesn’t even feel bad about the lie.

\--

Dr Serling Roquette lets them into her office manually – it’s the only door in the complex that can’t be controlled electronically, and thus the only door in the building that’s not currently in a State Of Peril.

“I’ve managed to divert all the power I can to the doors on each floor,” she informs in a clipped voice, leading them over to a set of computer screens showing every angle of the prison. “But at this point _all_ the door cells are open. And the villains are _very_ determined to get out of here.”

“We’ll sort it out,” Nightwing assures as Batgirl nods beside him. “We’ve brought our whole team – all you need to do is lock each cell door when a villain gets in there and tell us if something comes up behind us.”

Dr Roquette bites the skin of her thumb, eyes jerking over to the computer monitors.

“I won’t be able to do much except give a verbal warning,” she states, sitting down in her chair. (And it’s a _spinny_ chair, how crash is _that?!_ ) “All their collars are off, I can only control the building.”

“We know,” Kaldur cuts in. “Which is why Kid Flash is going to stay here with you.”

Bart and Dr Roquette stare at Kaldur, before speaking in sync.

“What?”

“Kid Flash has superspeed,” Batgirl informs, stepping forwards. “As well as being able to phase through walls. If there’s a villain we don’t see and a verbal warning won’t be enough, then he can run out of here and down to us to help. It’s the best idea we could come up with.”

Bart blinks.

“But won’t you need me down there?” he asks, leaning back and forth on his heels. “I could help!”

“We know,” Nightwing responds, smiling slightly. “But Dr Roquette needs protection and we need someone who can still provide last minute backup.” He spreads his arms. “You’re the best person to provide that.”

Bart grins, chuffed, and beside him Jaime rolls his eyes.

“I won’t be able to hold you in the mind link from the distance,” M’Gann informs, floating slightly off the ground. “You’ll have to rely on the comms for communication.”

“Well, that _is_ what comms _literally_ means,” Bart says, right as Dr Roquette mutters “thank _god_.”

“Smartass,” Cassie teases. Bart grins at her, careful not to let it get _too_ maniac-like.

Kaldur clears his throat, cutting in.

“There is no lift in this complex to avoid it being too easy for villains to escape,” he states, ignoring Dr Roquette’s muttering of “they’ve done an alright job so far.” “We will have to travel down each level via the stairs.” Then Kaldur pauses, surveying them all carefully. “This is why we include cross country exercises in training, and why it’s important to participate.”

“Half of us can fly, though,” Bumblebee points out. Kaldur raises a brow.

“Regardless, it would still be prudent to train for the possibility of losing your powers. After today’s mission, we may start upping the amount of non-powered combat you train with.”

Everyone groans. Bart leans back on the computer terminal, grinning.

“Oh, _man_. You’re benching _me_ , and I’m the only one that _can_ run.”

“Kid Flash, non-powered combat means no superspeed.”

Bart’s grin slips.

“Oh.”

“Never mind all this,” Dr Roquette suddenly snaps, narrowing her eyes. “You’re here to go stop the villains, right?” She waves an irritable hand. “Then go do that.”

Nightwing and Batgirl exchange looks, but the team goes.

“Now then,” Dr Roquette announces, rubbing her hands together. “Guard my life, but stay out of my way.”

She’s not even paying attention to him anymore, but Bart grins and does a lazy salute.

“Certainly.”

\-- 

Say what you will about the bloody nose being low on the Pain Scale, but the gunshot wound? That _hurts_.

His thigh is now a Place Of Pain, but instead of focusing on it Bart decides to focus on many other things. He digs his fingernails into his palm and concentrates on that. He bites his lip and diverts attention there. He gets philosophical about pain, distancing his mind, all while taking down the villain that did it.

Once they’re defeated, however, it’s considerably harder to distract himself.

Jaime manages to notice before Bart even says anything, though, because Jaime is simultaneously Great and Terrible like that. He’s freaking out more than is necessary, probably, the same way Jaime freaked out when Milagro chipped her tooth biting down on that really hard apple. Milagro had been the least concerned one there, with Bart watching as all three members of her family fussed.

Great job getting off-topic, brain.

Jaime is still freaking out.

Bart’s lips quirk. He wants to Grin Like A Maniac again.

The rest of the team’s suddenly there, Nightwing quickly jumping on board Jaime’s Freakout Bandwagon. Bart has to try really hard not to roll his eyes. They’re all overreacting. Like, a _lot_. So, he got shot, it’s not a big deal. Even if the edges of his vision are turning dark.

Bart gets out a warning, and then he faints.

\--

“I’m boooored,” Bart whines. Several floors below him, the team is making significant progress without him. Dr Roquette shoots him the dirtiest look she can muster.

“You have to stay vigilant,” she instructs, pressing the keys to lock another villain in their cell. Bart stares at her fingers. “We might still need you. And if something happens to me, you’ll have to take over. You get how to lock the doors, right?”

Bart sighs but nods.

“Good.” Dr Roquette pushes a couple more buttons, before hitting the comm in her ear. “You’re doing a good job. Keep it up, but try to hurry. There’s still lots more to go.”

“Dr Roquette,” Bart abruptly says. “Can I call you Serling?”

She sends him a glare.

“No.”

Silence reigns for several seconds, before Bart frowns.

“Hey, Serling?”

“What?!” she snaps, somehow sighing at the same time. Usually Bart would grin and say something random, but in this case he chooses to point at the black monitor.

“Did the camera outside our door just go off?”

Serling follows his finger with her eyes and her face goes pale. She taps a couple of keys to no avail, cursing.

“Kid Flash,” she says after a moment, eyes flickering to where the steel door stands ominously. “I’m going to need you to vibrate through the door, and see what’s out there.”

“Sure!”

(It can’t be anything _too_ bad, right?)

Bart’s only taken a step forwards when something suddenly bangs against the door, making both him and Serling jerk backwards.

“ _Shit_ ,” she hisses, tapping at more keys – which seems kinda pointless, in Bart’s opinion. “Kid Flash, I’ve changed my mind. Do _not_ go out there. _Urgh_ , why does this door have to be one I can’t control?!”

Something slams against the door again, making it shudder.

“Fuck.”

“Grife.”

The door is hit a couple more times, before it flies completely off its hinges.

“Hello, children. Could you give your friends a message for me?”

And there, standing in all his pride and glory, is Deathstroke.

\--

His mum had woken him up gently but urgently, her grin wide but her eyes scared.

“We have to move, sunshine,” she’d proclaimed, already helping him to stand up. “A Beetle is on its way.”

“Which one?”

“It doesn’t matter, they’re all dangerous.”

Bart had squinted. They didn’t _look_ dangerous, not from a distance. And not up close, he found out later, when Black Beetle cornered them. It didn’t feel dangerous even when it raised its cannon, firing up, aiming, shooting, watching Bart’s mother fall to the floor.

She was smiling even then.

(He thinks she might have known, in hindsight. That something was… _wrong_ , with him. That Bart’s reactions are all screwed up and he smiles when he should cry and blinks when he should run and can’t seem to recognise danger even as it stares him in the face.

He’s not quite sure if anyone in the past knows, but it’s starting to look like they might just be catching on.)

(But who cares about all that, when him and Jaime are dating now?)

(Right?)

\--

He should probably move, but instead Bart just stares.

Which shows how messed up he is, because Bart Allen just _stares_ as Deathstroke raises quite possibly the biggest gun he’s ever seen. (It looks more like a cannon, to be honest.) He keeps staring as the gun goes off three times, hitting Serling with enough force to send her flying off the chair as a crimson liquid shoots outwards.

Bart only stops staring when his ears stop ringing, moving forwards in the blink of an eye. And so suddenly Deathstroke is right _there_ , moving his gun for some reason and –

f i r i n g

.

.

.

\-- 

 

After the meat cleaver, Bart throws up.

He’s been sick before, of course – only a couple times, and both times Nathaniel was there to help him and use his jumpsuit sleeve to wipe Bart’s mouth. Because after his dad was gone and after his mum was and Bart started fending for himself, Nathaniel showed up with nothing but kind words and stories about superheroes, and he was as much Bart’s parent as Don and Meloni.

But Nathaniel isn’t there this time. Bart’s alone again, locked in a bathroom, hurling up the contents of his stomach.

(He cried in front of Jaime. He isn’t… _used_ to crying.)

When he spoke to Cassie and Jaime before… that wasn’t a lie. He _was_ fine. Still is!

Just… nauseous.

Someone knocks on the bathroom door.

“Bart?” Artemis’ voice comes through, quiet but concerned. “Are you okay?”

Bart wipes his own mouth, because he no longer has Nathaniel to do that for him.

“I’m fine,” he calls back, forcing himself to stand up and keeping his eyes off his arm. “I’ll be done in a sec. Probably literally. Hey, how long did Wally take to use the bathroom?”

Too late, he realises that he probably shouldn’t have mentioned Wally. Then he thinks – no, Artemis is tough. _Then_ he thinks no, she’s still upset. Maybe. Yeah, _definitely_.

Artemis hesitates before answering.

“You know you can… talk to us, right?” she says, sounding as though she’s leaning against the door. She’s going back to Palo Alto tomorrow. Bart’s not sure whether he’ll miss her or not. “If there’s anything wrong…”

Bart forces a grin, even though there’s no one there to see it.

“Yeah!” he announces, before frowning. “I don’t mean there’s anything wrong, I just mean… I know. That I can talk.” _Even if I’m not very good at it_.

“Like you do anything else,” Artemis teases, sighing. “By the way, you never said thanks for the chocolate gateau.”

“Thanks for the chocolate gateau,” Bart responds dutifully. “Man, I can’t believe I ate a _whole one_!”

A _whole one_ which is now in the toilet.

What a waste.

\--

The world comes back in fragments: an empty doorway, a blood-splattered floor, and a searing pain in his kneecap.

Bart gasps, the room spinning around him. All he can think of is the _painpainpain_ in his knee, and this is _worse_ than the gunshot, _worse_ than Meat Cleaver, _worse_ that getting stabbed.

This is Officially The Worst Thing That’s Ever Happened ( _Ever_ ) To Bart Allen.

The pain is everything, but Bart forces himself to turn off his back and onto his front, vision whiting with pain for an indeterminable amount of time. He breathes out harshly, shakily, and has an unreasonable amount of trouble trying to breathe back _in_.

He starts to crawl over to where Serling lies on the floor in a pool of blood. Bart bites his lip, both from pain and prayers that she might just be okay.

No such luck.

Bart’s not really too well focused, but he reaches out a shaking hand to check her pulse. When there’s nothing, he rests a hand on her chest to check for something, _anything_ , that might say she’s still breathing.

But

there’s

nothing.

Bart takes a shaky breath.

Then he notices Serling’s comm buzz, tinny unrecognisable words coming out of it.

And despite the pain and the shock and the blood, Bart reaches over, and pulls it out of her ear.

\--

Bart’s been shaky ever since the Meat Cleaver Incident, which still leaves a bad taste in his mouth. So when he runs into his next batch of muggers, he decides to go the whole boxing route once again.

These guys are better than the last, even though they’re still moded against a speedster. Bart bobs and weaves like he’s been doing it his entire life, grinning the whole time, and the last girl must have a _rock hard_ face because when he punches her? His fingers _kind of_ break.

Bart heads home despite the black and shiny vision, the speed making him feel even dizzier. Still, it’s not hard to locate the First Aid kit that Jay and Joan keep in the kitchen, with Bart unashamedly thanking some higher deity that they’ve gone out.

What’s kind of _harder_ is trying to handle taping his fingers together one-handed. He broke his fingers once before, in the past, but that time Nathaniel had taken the lead in somehow procuring the equipment and dealing with it. Bart’s just by himself this time, probably botching it completely, but odds are his fingers will be healed within the day.

So it’s not like it even matters.

(He tells the team he was punching a male villain, so that Just In Case any of them _do_ look into it, they’ll be looking for Entirely The Wrong Thing.)

\--

Manoeuvring himself onto the chair is by far the most painful thing Bart has ever done. He lets out a cry of pain about five times in a row, and he’s not even ashamed to admit that there’s tears rolling down his cheeks.

The comm digs into the palm of Bart’s hand where he holds it. The voices of the team are still trying to reach him and Serling, but he decides not to answer until he’s safely on the chair.

Easier said than done.

It seems like an eternity of pained grunts and jolts of white dancing before his eyes before Bart’s facing the monitors and blinking the spots out of his vision. The team is still battling onscreen, though Robin is standing to the side with his hand to his ear, concerned.

Slowly, shakily, and ignoring the spots of blood on his hand, Bart puts the comm into his ear and presses down.

“ _Dr Roquette?_ ” Tim’s voice filters through. _“Kid Flash? Are either of you there?”_

Bart breathes.

“Yeah,” he answers, nodding vigorously despite knowing that no one’s there to see him. (Not now that Serling’s dead.) “I – yeah, I’m here.”

Onscreen, Robin slumps in relief. Bart’s not concentrating on the others, but he’ll bet they do the same.

“ _Geez, way to scare us, KF,_ ” Cassie comments, punching a guy so hard in the face he goes flying. Bart lets out a breathy laugh. “ _The two of you just went silent all of a sudden.”_

None of them _know_.

Bart puts his head in his hands.

“ _Kid Flash, did you steal the comms from Dr Roquette?”_ Robin asks, sounding amused as he jumps back into action – literally. As in, with a grappling hook. _“You’re not supposed to do that, you know.”_

Bart remains silent. He drifts his eyes to the right, where a trail of his own blood lies scraped along the floor. It’s a grim reminder of his kneecap, and the way he’s barely even keeping the pain away.

A pause.

 _“Kid Flash?”_ Robin sounds concerned.

Bart takes The Shakiest Breath He’s Ever Taken – and considering he got shot several minutes ago, that’s really saying something.

“She’s dead,” he says, voice breaking slightly. “Serling – Dr Roquette. She’s dead.”

Another pause. Then,

“ _What?!”_ Batgirl demands, somehow looking _right at the camera_ in the middle of punching a villain. “ _I – Kid Flash, **what**?!” _

Bart switches off the comm as the pain in his leg gets too hard to ignore. He grips at it on instinct, vision whiting out with how much _worse_ he just made it.

He’s _such_ an idiot.

An idiot who’ll probably have bled out within the hour.  

\-- 

When Bart gets stabbed, Jaime is _mad_.

People don’t get mad at Bart very often. Inconvenienced, sure. Annoyed, _definitely_. But _mad_? Not so much.

And it’s not like Jaime even has any _reason_ to be mad. Not one that Bart can understand, anyway.

Apparently, it’s a good enough reason for them to break up.

Bart stares at the ceiling, at the spider web in the corner and the cracks in the plaster.

He looks at the cracks, and they remind him of himself.

\--

It _hurts_.

The comm beeps.

_“Kid Flash -”_

Bart switches it off.

\--

“I heard about you and Blue Beetle.”

Dinah offers him a small smile – probably a calculated one, equal parts sympathetic and comforting. Bart just stares. Maybe that would work on someone else, but not on him.

“I think everyone has,” Bart states loudly, leaning back on his heels. He doesn’t know why she’s here, seeking him out when he’s alone on the sofa and _fine_. “God, why does everyone on this team _gossip_ so much? Sometimes I think they’re better at gossiping than superheroing, and, hey, that’s a really crash word -”

“Bart,” Dinah interrupts, sitting down – not too close, not too far. She’s planned this. “I came to ask if you’re okay.”

Bart scowls.

“Of course I am!” he proclaims, throwing his arms up in the air. Dinah raises a brow. He’s going to have to reiterate it. “Really, I’m fine. I’ve never been anything less! _Well_ , apart from the Meat Clever Incident, but that was a while ago and has nothing to do with this…”

He trails off at Dinah’s unimpressed look.

She sighs.

“Do you remember those sessions we had when the Reach left?” she asks, leaning back. Not too slow and not too fast, though little does she know that _everything_ is slow to Bart.

“Um, yeah?”

Dinah folds her hands in her lap. Bart focuses his eyes on her fingers, interweaving in a pattern.

“Would you like some more?” she offers, watching him carefully. “I know that breakups can be very difficult, especially when you and that person were extremely close.”

He’s grinning, Bart realises vaguely. Oh, fuck, it’s the deranged one. Dinah probably thinks he’s a psycho serial killer with a grin like that. Add that on top of his little boxing practices… and she’d probably think he’s completely insane. Maybe she’d be right.

“I don’t need sessions,” he states lightly, standing up quicker than is probably necessary. Dinah’s eyes follow him carefully, but Bart still just stares at her hands. For a second he imagines them coming up, wrapping around his neck, before he banishes that image with the realisation that that’s a _really_ _fucking creepy thing to think about_. “I’m fine. Really.”

“Is that why you’ve been ignoring Jaime?” Dinah points out, raising a brow, and Bart flinches back. _Grife_ , he hopes she isn’t psychoanalysing him or something. God knows there’s enough screwed up thoughts in his head for her to write a whole novel, or something.

He takes a deep breath.

“I just need… time, okay?” Bart states, voice coming out weirdly small. He breathes again before continuing louder. “And space. And then I’ll be – crash. Not that I’m not _already_ , I just…” He trails off, waving one arm at superspeed. “I don’t need ‘sessions’, is what I’m saying.”

Bart finally meets her gaze. Dinah narrows her eyes, searching his face for something she’ll probably never find, before nodding once.

“Okay. But if you ever need anyone to talk to, I’ll be here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind!” Bart chirps, before zooming off.

Yeah, right. Like he’s going to talk to Dinah, or Artemis, or _anybody_. He doesn’t even _need_ to. He’s just. Fine.

He didn’t like Jaime that much, anyway.

\--

He doesn’t stop with the co-operation entirely, of course. Bart takes over Serling’s job of hitting the right buttons to close the right cells – and thank the _lord_ that he was paying attention to what Serling had to press to do that.

Every few seconds, another member of the team will switch on the comms to try and talk to him. Normally, Bart’s speed would allow him to cut out the feed before he even hears that annoying _beep_ , but pain does funny things to a person.

He’s not sure why he doesn’t just… take the comm out of his ear. Probably because Bart’s not sure why he does _anything_.

_Beep._

“ _Bart?”_ a voice says, and Bart’s hand stops halfway to his ear.

He takes a deep breath.

“Jaime.”

_“Are you okay?”_

The rest of the team is probably listening in, but Bart does his maniac grin and tries not to focus on the pain.

“I’m fine,” he lies.

Jaime’s sigh of relief is audible even over the comms.

_“Good. I – Dr Roquette?”_

Bart feels his heart drop.

“Dead.”

 _“Oh,”_ Jaime murmurs, powering up his cannon onscreen. “ _But you – you’re fine, right?”_

He’s still grinning like he’s deranged, Bart realises. It’s because his knee just hurts _so much_. He can hear the _dripdripdrip_ of his blood hitting the floor.

Grife.

“I am as fine as it is possible to be!” Bart announces as chirpily as he can, taking some comfort in the breathy laugh Jaime lets out.

“ _What happened?”_ Nightwing’s voice comes abruptly through the comm. “What killed Dr Roquette?”

Bart looks away, towards the gaping door. If Deathstroke comes back, he’ll be _moded_.

“Deathstroke,” Bart whispers. “I was – too fast. For him. Ducked out of the way. Serling – Dr Roquette couldn’t.”

“ _Can you see where he is now?”_ Batgirl asks.

Bart scans over the monitors with eyes moving at superspeed. The only camera off is the one outside the door – apart from that, no sign of Deathstroke. Though with all the mayhem and the way Bart somehow didn’t notice him _before_ , his vision is probably Not Very Trustworthy.

When he says as much, Kaldur sighs.

“ _We’ll remain vigilant,”_ he says. _“But right now, our top priority is handling the situation at hand. Kid Flash, are you sure that you’re fine?”_

 _Drip_.

“I’m fine,” Bart assures, even though he’s about seconds away from throwing up.

\--

At first, Nightwing had tried putting Bart and Jaime on the same missions to get them to Sort Out Their Issues. Seeing as Bart hasn’t actually _looked_ at Jaime in… a while, it clearly hasn’t worked. Which is probably how the rest of the team seems to collectively decide that it’s pointless, and everything will just be less awkward if they Go On Different Missions.

Thank _god_.

Bart now ends up paired with Gar on things, which is… nice. He likes Gar. Gar asks Bart about his life without getting too personally invasive, and is more than willing to talk about all the things he’s learning from his tutor.

At the end of a mission in which Gar ended up talking about ‘Shakespeare’ and fascinating Bart, they get back to the base and Gar shoves a book in his face.

“It’s Romeo and Juliet,” he states, tail flicking back and forth. “You can borrow it, I don’t mind, though the language might be bit hard.”

“Thanks,” Bart responds, smiling. “This looks _super_ crash!”

He takes the book home, and doesn’t tell Gar that he can’t read.

\--

Serling lies on her side to his left. Bart’s eyes keep flickering over to her vacant gaze and twisted limbs.

He always looks quickly away.

The team only have to lock three more levels of villains in their cells. Unfortunately, those are the most dangerous villains to deal with.

Which is why they don’t need to be worrying about Bart.

\-- 

It only takes two weeks for them to encounter something ridiculous. Some type of giant mutant lizard, and when Gar tells him Bart _grins_.

There needs to be more giant mutant lizards in life.

When Bart says so, everyone gives him weird looks save Gar, who just laughs. And yeeeah, Gar is _so_ Bart’s new favourite.

The giant mutant lizard is in the sewers – which, _ew_ , cool but gross – and once they get down there it only takes about a few seconds to hear the roaring.

“This,” Bart announces solemnly. “Is so. _Crash_.”

Somewhat _less_ crash? When the giant mutant lizard, which they are all currently trying to subdue, sends its arm flying out and punches Bart. In the jaw.

And his vision goes white.

When it clears, ears ringing and vision still somewhat blurry, Bart looks past the pain to see that he and Gar are staring at each other in shock. Gar starts to move over as Bart starts to fall, a hand coming up to hold his jaw against better judgement, and he can vaguely hear the sounds of panic around him.

Someone catches him. Bart doesn’t know who.

In fact, he doesn’t know much of _anything_ for a while. The world comes in leaps and bounds, scenes flashing before his eyes. Cassie’s panicked face leaning over him, mouthing words that he doesn’t understand. Gar’s tail twitching anxiously. Robin’s brow creasing.

It _hurts_ , and Bart can’t be bothered to hold back his manic smile, but when it starts to form on his face the _pain_ rips through him and for a while that’s all he knows.

Someone defeats the giant mutant lizard – probably Batgirl, because she’s probably the only one that can keep her head in a crisis, despite everyone else’s claims to the contrary. Bart feels himself being moved, hears words being said, but as of right now he doesn’t understand any of it.

Language is beyond him, suddenly.

 --

_Hurtshurtshurtshurtshurtshurtshurts._

\--

Bart’s family visits once his jaw’s been wired but his hands still haven’t stopped shaking. He curls his fingers into fists, tangling them in the bedsheets, and Grandma Iris’ eyes linger but she doesn’t say anything.

Don and Dawn climb on the bed beside him, already chatting at a million miles an hour. They don’t seem perturbed by his jaw, though they don’t go anywhere near it. Bart nods instead of smiles and runs his fingers through Dawn’s hair. She beams and he can’t beam back, so instead he tilts his head as softly as he can manage.

Both settle down and go to sleep, somehow. Bart doesn’t stop running his fingers through their hair. Grandma Iris watches sadly.

“Barry’s sorry he couldn’t come,” she says softly, running a hand through Bart’s own hair. He leans into her touch. “He was going to, but – there was a flood in England. He’s gone to help.”

Bart nods as Iris pulls her hand away, settling it on her lap. She wrings her wrist nervously, eyes flickering about before finally settling back.

“How are you holding up?” she asks, features downturned. “That, um – looks nasty.”

Bart nods again, because it’s really all he can do, shrugging his shoulder slightly.

Iris sighs.

“You look tired,” she points out gently, reaching a hand out before changing her mind and dropping it. “Bags under your eyes.”

Bart watches her. She smiles weakly.

“You speedsters are always so reckless,” she murmurs, fond but sad. She looks like she’s about to cry, and Bart feels bad because he _really doesn’t_ want to be the one to make her cry, but Iris just sniffs and wipes at her eyes. “I’m fine, I just – are you taking time off the team?”

Bart nods again. Iris nods, too – just once. Firmly, sharply.

“Good,” she states, and then falls silent.

For a while they just sit, the twins’ chests rising and falling rhythmically until Iris gently shakes them awake whilst stating that it’s time for them to go.

“Be careful, Bart,” is her parting remark.

Bart snorts softly.

Yeah, right.

\--

“ _-ash?”_

Bart blinks groggily. He… went away, for a moment there. The pain took over until he was grinning so wide his face hurt, and he really. Isn’t. Fine.

“I’m fine,” he gasps into the comm, scanning the situation on the screens and pressing the keys it looks like he needs to. “Totally crash, nothing wrong here, I’m alive I’m not hurt I’m _fine_ -”

“ _You’re not_ ,” Cassie breathes out in the middle of a roundhouse kick. “ _Oh my god, you’re really not, are you?”_

Bart closes his eyes as his vision doubles, trying to force it back into re-alignment.

“I am,” he says after a moment, though it’s probably kind of useless at this point. “I really, really am.”

“ _Bart -”_ Jaime starts to say, but Artemis cuts in with, “ _Bart, what the **fuck** is wrong?!” _

Bart flinches at her snarl, accidently nudging his leg and holding in his gasp of pain.

He can’t lie. Not to Artemis.

“He shot me,” Bart informs much more calmly than he feels, watching the fight on screen with ringing ears. “Deathstroke, he – when he came in, I didn’t manage to dodge in time.” He blinks rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “He shot me.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Gar says, and it’s so _unlike_ him that Bart blinks and lets out a laugh.

(And doesn’t _“fuck”_ just sum this situation up _perfectly?!_ )

“ _Kid Flash_ ,” Nightwing’s voice resounds. _“Where did he shoot you?”_

Bart bites his lip, blood welling up.

“Kneecap,” he whispers.

“ _And you’ve been bleeding out this whole time?!”_ Artemis demands. Bart does his Maniac Grin, nodding shakily even though he’s alone. “ _You – you are even bigger idiot than **Wally** , and let me tell you, he set **records** on that front_.”

“ _At least tell me you called a medical team,”_ Batgirl cuts in.

“Um. That kind of. Didn’t occur to me,” Bart sheepishly admits.

Onscreen, Jaime looks around.

“ _I’m coming up_ ,” he announces.

\--

Life Without Superheroing is… weird. And _boring_.

Jay and Joan are _great_ , helping Bart eat with straws and simply hugging him when he gets frustrated. The twins, when they come round, seem to understand that he’s not in the mood for playing with them, instead contenting themselves with curling up and watching cartoons with him.

Barry recounts tales of saving lives and Iris gossips about her work. Bart manages to pass three weeks this way, dreaming of his mother and trying his Very Best not to think of Jaime.

Artemis comes to stay, three and a half weeks in. Someone must have informed her that Bart’s been communicating in nods, grunts and shrugs up until now, because she brings a clipboard and a pen and hands it to him.

“Just write what you want to say,” she says, sitting down on Bart’s bed. He raises an eyebrow as he sits down beside her, biting the pen lid and staring at the paper.

Bart frowns.

Then he draws a picture of Artemis smiling. She sees it and sighs, though the corners of her lips curl up.

“Nice drawing,” she comments. “But _write_. I know you can’t physically speak and it’s probably been killing you, so here’s me giving you a way to let all those speedster thoughts of yours out.”

Bart stares at her, hoping she gets the message.

“Well?” Artemis prompts after several seconds, waving a hand. “For a speedster, you’re being incredibly slow.”

Bart moves the pen and draws another picture – a big cross. He hopes Artemis will get it when she sees.

And, sure enough, she only frowns for several seconds before her face clears with understanding.

“Bart,” she says slowly, looking up and meeting his eyes. “This might be a stupid question, but – can you write?”

Bart shakes his head.

“Can you, um.” Artemis looks uncomfortable, but – kudos to her – her gaze doesn’t waver. “Can you read?”

Another head shake.

Artemis sighs, eyes drifting before catching sight of something. She moves to grab it, and sits back down with what Gar called ‘Romeo and Juliet’ in her hands. Artemis cocks an eyebrow.

“Let me guess,” she sighs, waving the book around. “Someone lent this to you, not knowing that you can’t read it, right?”

Bart nods and Artemis looks completely unsurprised; though she _does_ twist her mouth oddly.

“I could read it to you,” she offers, looking like she’s shocked even herself. “If you want.”

Bart hesitates, then nods.

The language _is_ hard, that Gar was right about, but Artemis is fine with stopping and explaining what certain phrases are supposed to mean. They don’t manage to finish that day – _duh_ – but she comes by as often as she can until they finally reach the end.

It was… sad. But Bart enjoyed it.

Once they’ve reached the final line, Artemis closes the book and puts it down gently.

“I – Wally read this to me once,” she says quietly, looking as though she wants to avert her gaze but holding it because she’s _Artemis_. “It’s… I haven’t read it, since he, um. Died.” A bitter smile dances its way across her lips, before she forces herself to perk up. “Anyway, uh – Gar lent it to you, right? I’ll give it back to him. And I won’t tell him about the reading thing, if you don’t want.”

Bart shakes his head. Artemis looks unsurprised.

“Right, then.” She stands, but Bart catches her sleeve.

 _Thank you_.

He doesn’t say it, but he thinks she gets the message anyway.

\--

“Jaime, no,” Bart protests immediately, tiredly waving a hand. He’s losing energy. “You’re a – whatchamacallit – oh, right, a powerhouse. You can’t come up here, you’ll be, like, sacrificing a huge resource, or some shit.”

“ _Stop trying to sound smart,”_ Jaime commands, and Bart grins on instinct.

“I _am_ smart _,”_ he defends. _“_ I built a time machine!”

“ _And you didn’t tell **anyone** that you got shot!”_ Jaime _yells_ , and Bart flinches back. “ _I am – so, **so** angry with you right now, but that can wait. Because right now, I’m coming up.” _

_“You’re not,”_ Artemis says, aiming and firing an arrow onscreen. _“I am.”_

“Not you either!” Bart snaps, and usually he wouldn’t be so irritable but if those villains escape? _Mayhem_. Not worth his life.

Besides, Bart’s just. Fine.

 _“Listen, Kid Flash!”_ Artemis practically shouts. _“For **once** in your **life**! I may be experienced, but I’m not powerful. This team? It can spare me! Blue Beetle stays here, but I’m **coming up**. And **you** are calling. A. Medical team.” _ She sounds as though she’s gritting her teeth. Artemis has good teeth.

Bart was one of the lucky few to have toothbrushes in the future.

“ _I’ll come, too_ ,” another voice offers – Tim. “ _I can – help. And – when Bart gets treated, I’ll handle the doors.”_

Bart’s barely even started to get out a protest before Batgirl’s commanding, “ _Go.”_

\--

The car chase is _fucking awesome_ , and that’s really all there is to say on the matter.

\--

“Hey, Jaime?” Bart says drowsily. “Can we – talk?”

“ _You’re asking this **now**?!”_

Bart shrugs slightly.

“Good a time as any,” he mutters. Jaime makes out a little choked sound.

“ _We’ll give you some privacy,”_ Batgirl mutters. “ _We’ll all still be able to hear you, but we won’t listen and we won’t interrupt.”_

“Thanks,” Bart says thickly. Onscreen, Artemis and Robin are racing up the stairs as fast as they can, their pants filling the comms.

A pause – just a short one.

“ _So?”_ Jaime asks, voice clipped and angry. “ _What do you wanna talk about?”_

Bart’s eyes follow him on the screen.

“If I told you I’m fucked up,” he says haltingly. “Would that – come as a surprise?”

Bart thinks Jaime might be scowling, if not for the armour.

“ _What kind of a question is that?”_

Bart sighs, a fresh wave of pain ripping through his leg. It won’t be long, now, until he bleeds out.

“Okay, here’s an honest statement for you,” he states perkily, and The Grin is in full force. “And I don’t give out many, so you better appreciate this one. Jaime – I’m fucked up. Like, _insane_ levels of fucked up. Considering I grew up in a post-apocalypse, it shouldn’t be a surprise.”

“ _Bart,”_ Jaime starts, sounding… tired. “ _You – you’re not…”_

“But I _am_ ,” Bart stresses, tapping out a rhythm with his hand before stopping from exhaustion. “I don’t know how much it shows, really – I’m. Not great at judging stuff like that. But I, uh… Am screwed up. Quite a lot. And I don’t even know why I’m telling you this now except that we’re _probably_ not getting that ice cream next week.”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Jaime instructs, before sighing. _“I don’t – mean that in a bad way. Like –_ mierda _, Bart, you’re talking like you’re gonna die or something.”_

“I probably am,” Bart offers. Jaime makes a pained noise.

 _“You’re not,”_ he assures. “ _Artemis and Robin are on their way, and – they’ll get their soon and you’ll get help. Did you call the medical team?”_

Bart makes a humming noise that is neither a yes or no, but Jaime seems to take it as a positive confirmation.

_“Then you’ll get out of here and get help, and we can – talk. Properly. About how you’ve been feeling lately.”_

Bart shuts his eyes slowly, painfully.

“That’s the thing, Jaime,” he informs quietly, letting out a short laugh. “I’ve – _always_ felt this way.”

\--

Bart’s had enough of not being able to speak to last him a lifetime – even if his lifetime probably _will_ be incredibly short.

Regardless, he figures it’s probably time to suck it up and start speaking to Jaime again. Artemis may or may not have said something along those lines at some point, and Bart may or may not trust her advice above everyone else’s.

So he talks to Jaime again, pulling out random topics that are as far from serious as he can make them. Jaime seems in no hurry to bring up old wounds again, which is _great_.

And whenever the topics _do_ veer slightly more serious, it doesn’t take much to make a quick distraction.

Until Jaime refuses to tolerate that any longer, and tries to make Bart Spill His Heart And Soul.

He doesn’t explain _everything_ , of course – _Ican’treadIcan’twrite_ – just the basics.

Bart does confess enough to get uncomfortable, though. He doesn’t perceive danger – he never has. And he _knows_ that that’s weird, but to him it’s just _normal_.

Jaime asks some philosophical question about identity or whatever and Bart just blurts out the first piece of bullshit that comes out of his head, which Jaime swallows like a guy who doesn’t want to notice just _how_ many issues the guy he likes has.

And it’s _so_ much easier than it should be to distract him.

 --

Jaime doesn’t seem to know what to do with that, but bless him, he _tries_.

 _“We’ll help,”_ he says, though his voice is trembling slightly. _“We all will.”_

Bart hums again, shifting slightly. He barely even reacts to the flash of pain in his leg.

“You knooow,” he drawls as dramatically as he can. “I’ve gotten into boxing lately. I, ah – beat up some muggers in Central City. And that vending machine Captain Cold stole? That was me. I, um – I framed him. Thought it was funny.” Bart laughs again, untamed, and it probably comes out even more deranged than his smile. “Kind of like how this is funny, right?”

He doesn’t wait to hear a reply – Bart hits the comm to disconnect, and leans back in his chair.

He’s probably about to die, and Artemis and Tim are only just reaching the top of the stairs.

\--

Because _really_ , Bart thinks, if he ever _does_ admit out loud just how fucked up he is, admits that’s he’s _not_ fine but he’s been this way all his life, then he’ll have to admit that he’s _never_ been okay, never _not_ been fucked up.

And when someone’s _always_ been messed up, when it’s something that’s there from birth – that can’t just get _fixed_. No amount of sessions from Dinah or hugs from his family or time with Jaime is going to fix him, because he’s been Broken From Birth so what’s the point in _even trying?_

The cracks on the ceiling remind Bart of himself – fractured, broken, and something that nobody’s bothered to fix.

Not even himself.

\--

He can hear Artemis and Tim’s running footsteps approaching.

He’s lost a _lot_ of blood.

Bart stares at the ceiling but sees the sky, and lets himself madly grin as he thinks _at least it’s not grey_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay for ambiguous endings
> 
> EDIT 17/4/16 - I noticed some people seemed curious about some things so feel free to send a message or ask on my [tumblr](http://orsumfenix.tumblr.com/)


End file.
